


Madness

by Malind



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Insanity, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Obsession, POV First Person, Possessive Behavior, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5906536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shadow haunts the Greed-ler for years until he decides to take revenge against it. Takes place years after the Once-ler goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katelena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katelena/gifts).



> Without Katelena's encouragement and persistence, this story would never have been written. So you can blame her for this, as well as for the second part if I ever write it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Lorax. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

It all starts with him.  He is the one who burns in my memories.  The one from my dreams, my nightmares.  You'd think it'd be my family I'd want to forget, wherever they may be.  But no, he is the one who I try so hard to forget.  He is my curse, my never ending agony.

I see glimpses of him.  Only glimpses, but I know who he is.  He is the flitter out of the corner of my eye, every shadow that threatens to consume me and punish me for what I've done, as if I haven't been punished enough.

Some people may say we're the same person.  We look the same, after all.  We have the same voice, even if we don't speak the same words.  But I know better.  He's not me.  He never was.  He is everything I should have been.

I close my eyes as the thoughts go through my head over and over again in my solitude, as I wait for his next appearance, ready myself for it.  This time, he won't flitter away.  This time, I'll keep him with me and punish him in the same ways he punishes me.  And then some.  I'll bring his weak attempts at justice to an end.

A smile barely curves my lips as I slump further into my dilapidated office chair.  I can wait patiently.  It's all I'm required to do outside of keeping my body alive.  My hand reaches for the bowl on my desk, grabbing a half-hard marshmallow that came from the bag I'd opened a few days before.  I tongue it, nip at it, enjoying its hardness and inner softness.  Time ticks by as the day slumps into evening, a scene I can barely witness through my boarded windows. 

And then, as if waiting for my doze, I see movement out of the corner of my eye.  I jerk my head towards it, daring it to disappear.  When the shadowy shape crouches, I leap forward, out of my chair, into the air, and tackle him to the ground.

Onceler tries to squirm away, his breaths staggering as his panic increases.  I grab him by the neck, feel his tender skin beneath my fingers and the spine hidden underneath.  I squeeze until no more breath can escape.  He can't even beg for me to stop.  His struggles slowly come to an end.  My arms, chest, and face, are dripping blood, but it's so worth it, so worth seeing the fear in his eyes as I claim him for my own purposes.  This feeling doesn't even remotely compare to the claiming of my first tree that started my now decaying empire.  This feeling is heat and revenge itself.

I grin as I let him go, Onceler's breaths barely there, then yank his shirt off, not bothering to cradle his head as it thumps on the floor, and wipe the blood running into my mouth and down my chest.  I can imagine I'm quite the sight, as I stand up and push at his body with my booted foot.  But, yeah, it was so fucking worth it.

The mirror near me catches the last of the outside light and I stare at my reflection.  My face is red, gashed, and smiling.  The smile only increases. 

I look back down and take in Onceler's frail, half-naked body.  Something stirs in me, something unexpected.  I frown, kneel down, and reach out to touch the naked flesh I'd claimed.  The stirring grows stronger, increasing my breath.  This isn't what I'd intended, but now that the urge forms, I can't stop it, not completely. 

I wasn't supposed to want him.

I gather him up my arms with a certain degree of revulsion to help banish my carnal desires.  No longer daring to keep my gaze on him, I carry him to the bowels of my motionless factory.  The only sound, outside of my heavy footsteps, is of the generator outside, powered by the winds rolling over the dusty, barren hills outside.  It was my last invention, one surely only I could find use for, unlike the thneed.  Wind can't even find a way past the walls of the far away, barricaded city that had once been my main source of income.

Grabbing the hanging chains and wide manacles I'd installed days before, I bind his wrists so that, if standing of his own accord, he'd have a bit a slack in his arms.  But they are also spread out so that he can't shield himself, nor turn too much.  Just enough slack to let him have a bit of fight.  Then I bind his feet in the same manner with chains attached to the floor.  These hold his legs about hip width apart.  I step back to admire his drooping, half-naked body, but my eyes trace his body in a way that once again threatens my purpose.

I growl, bearing teeth, and stalk away.  The metal chair screams as I drag it from a corner to the center of the room in front of Onceler so that I can keep vigil over my captive.  I don't want to miss a single moment of his horror when he wakes up and realizes his predicament.

"Yeah, you should have let me be, Oncie," I whisper with a smirk.  The sound of my voice is small but nonetheless manages to echo in the large room dotted with machinery and laced with conveyer belts.

An hour passes.  Then another.  My amassing boredom gradually itches my rage to the point that I can no longer sit still and not attack.  Instead of venting on an unconscious body, I storm over to a nearby table and organize my assortment of chains, blades, and tools, and then refold the miraculous thneed several times into different shapes.  By the time I build a boat with it, I hear a moan behind me.

"Finally!" I call out, exasperated and more than ready. 

Grabbing the thneed, an object that had once been a mere idea that had started all of this, I charge up to him so that I can watch his face.  My grin is tight, showing all my teeth.  My hands can't stop playing with, distorting, stretching the thneed, imaging the softness of it is the Once-ler's softness.  The only problem is:  the thneed can't feel it and can't cry out the way the man before me can.  Will.

Onceler blinks repeatedly, his muscles rippling as he tries to straighten.  I can imagine his pain from being forced to hang there for over two hours.  It must be delicious. 

"You sore, Oncie?"

Onceler's blinking eyes focus on me finally and he croaks out of his damaged throat, "Greedler?"

The Greed-ler?  The name brings me to laugh.  Is that how he sees me?  As greedy?  It's odd to have a pet name, but hey, I like the sound of it, much better than the Once-ler, and can't deny the truthfulness in the new name. 

I grab ahold of his hair at the top of his head so that he can't turn away.  My other hand wraps the thneed tightly around his neck, covering the bruises still developing on his skin, making Onceler scrunch up his whole face and hiss.  The marks will take days, if not weeks, to fade.  I cover them because they look damn hot on him.  Couple that with the burning terror shining from his eyes, my groin is already stirring to life.  So, yeah, I cover the bruises.  This won't become some kind of love-making fest.  I'd done this to calm my need for revenge, not to make a friend in bed.

All grin, I trace my finger over his cheek, bringing his eyes to look up at me, his restraints making him a bit shorter than myself.  "You can scream all you want, Oncie.  You know no one will hear you."

He intakes a sharp breath, making me want to devour his mouth and the breath in it.  I catch myself tracing his bottom lip as I watch it tremble. 

How had I not taken this growing desire into account when I'd planned this?  Then again, how could I have known this sweeter version of myself would be so unbelievably sweet?   Sweeter than any marshmallow.  More tantalizing than the sugar used to make it.

Then, finally, Onceler begins to fight with his whole body.  Chains clink and rattle.  Hair yanks loose in my grip.  I let him go so I can step back and watch the spectacle.  His body is full of twists, jerks, trembles, as he exhausts himself.  After nearly a minute of futile struggles, he finally glares at me and howls, "Let me out of these!"

Help me, he's delicious.  I should have done this ages ago.  Why be lonely, miserable, on the verge of death, when I can have this?

I pull the key to his freedom out of my suitcoat pocket.  His eyes instantly lock onto it and his body gives into one more fling, as if he could grab it.  Maybe he'd hoped he could.  I unhook the gold chain from around my neck, string the key on it, and walk up to Onceler.  Now, he flings himself back and I clink my tongue at him as I fasten the chain around his neck, over the thneed so that the necklace barely hangs down over its thickness.

"You hold the key to your freedom, Oncie.  Once this is over, I hope for your sake that I never see you again."

Even as I say them, ritualistic words that had once been the whole truth, I'm no longer sure I want them to be true.  I hold onto the key, caressing it, wondering at it.  Really, does this man even deserve freedom after teasing me, torturing me for years?  Couldn't I keep him just like this?  Or in a collar and chain for a leash with him on his knees begging me for his every need and desire.  The image makes me heated all over.  The heat changes my mind for me.

He'd had his chance to leave.  And now...  I grin.  Now he's mine.  And it's his own fault.  This is as much his doing as my own.  If he wasn't mine, then surely he would have left me long ago.  I'm no longer a harm to anyone, after all.  What was the point of sticking around unless some part of him truly did want to be mine?

I focus on his face, his wide, tear-filled eyes, and I can't help but soften my grin into a smile.  Let him have the hope he suddenly thinks he wants.  Let him think there's a chance.  He's more beautiful that way.

I lean forward and claim his mouth.  His gasp gives me instant entrance.  And then his teeth clamp down hard, biting my tongue, drawing blood.  The pain yanks me backwards, his teeth scraping my tongue on the way.  My blood reddens his lips.  His eyes rage, as if he can't believe what I'd just done.  His glaring eyes dare me to try it again, eyes with lines of water falling down from them.

I grasp him by his ears and run my wounded tongue up his cheek, lapping up the salty liquid that burns my wound, smearing blood over his face so that it mirrors mine.  He tries to fight me off with small twists of his head but there's not much he can do without tearing his own ears off. 

"Cry more for me," I purr.

Then I lick the other cheek and he's reduced to open-mouthed quivering pants, his eyes clenched shut in clear avoidance.  Does he really think he can avoid me now like he's been doing for so long?

My lips trace his and he switches to breathing harshly through his nose to keep his mouth closed.  I don't mind.  In fact, I enjoy his resistance.  This would be unfulfilling, pointless if he simply gave in with no lesson learned.  I breathe in his hot breaths that only harshen further.  I wonder how long he can keep it up before he hyperventilates and passes out.

I release an ear, clawing at the other one so he'll think twice before trying to pull away, and place my hand on his chest, over his heart, so that I can feel it pound.  It's thumping like a jackhammer and we've barely even started yet.

Close to his mouth, I whisper, "How would you like me to start?"

His head gives a valiant effort to twist away, and I dig my fingernails into his ear.  He calls out.  His voice fills the large room.  Spit hits my face unintentionally.   And that's just his ear.  Could he even survive half of what I have planned for him?  The thought gives me unexpected pause and I have to question my own resolve.

I let my feet back away a couple of steps and I slowly look over Onceler again.  His eyes finally edge open to look at me fearfully.  My smile is gone.  In its place is anger, but this time it's directed at myself for my weakness.  But he doesn't know this and renewed tears drip from his eyes.

"I'm sorry..."  His choked sobs come out in earnest, making his words difficult to understand.  "I just...  I just wanted to help you."

Help?  I don't need help.  Especially not from him.  I grit my teeth, wanting to explode at him, at myself, at the world.  My voice low, dangerous, I mumble, "If you wanted to help me, then you should have left me alone."

Onceler breaks down into full out sobs.  I can't stand the sounds.  It grates on me, rubbing my ears as raw as my tongue from his teeth.  I turn on my heel and stalk away from him.  When my office door slams shut, the whole factory trembles.  I collapse into my chair, arms and feet dangling over the sides, and stare at the ceiling, trying to rediscover my carefully laid plans of revenge.

Eventually, against my better judgment, as my groin slowly hardens to the point of painful need, my plans rewrite themselves.  If I'm honest with myself, I find I like these plans much more.

It's hours later before I finally reenter the room where Onceler is chained.  His head is drooping, but raises slightly when my booted footsteps echo.  I walk to the table, grabbing a pair of forearm length shears, and walk up to him, giving him enough time to react with increasingly sharp shakes of his head.

"Please!  Please don't!"

I scrape the blades down his chest, making his body shake, but not with enough force to draw blood.  When I get to his pants, I turn the shears around and cut the waist open and proceed down one leg.

"What-What are you doing?"

The pants flop open, revealing most of his groin and backside although they're underneath the protection of skintight underwear with a colorful truffula tree print.  I see the limp outline of his cock and balls.  The pants only stay up by the friction of one leg.  I stand back up and look at my handiwork.  Yes, this idea is much, much better.  After a moment, without answering him, I finish the job, cutting the other leg open, and let the whole garment fall to the ground, standing back up.

The air is cool, so I'm not surprised he's trembling.  But I'm sure it's as much from the cold as from fear. 

Should I tell him what I'm planning, I wonder.  At what point will he figure out my new intentions, as if my previous kissing hadn't already given him a clue?  But he probably doesn't want to believe what I want to do to him, this mirror image of myself.  Would he even believe me if I did confess?

I walk away and place the shears on the table and smile at his harsh breaths and chain-rattling jerks.  My smile also comes from the knowledge that the beauty of torture is that there's more than one way to do it.  The Once-ler is about to find that fact out, although in a way different than my own torturous enlightenment over the previous hours.

My fingers trace over the various objects I'd collected. 

"Greedler, please, don't do this," Onceler chokes out.

His voice finally grates my last nerve.  That's enough whining for one day.  My hand rests on the industrial strength tape.  Onceler should be glad his face is baby smooth.  I pick it up and walk back to him.  He looks that the object with obvious confusion that drags his brows down.  I pull a strip off, rip it free with the help of my teeth, drop the rest of the roll on the floor in case I need it later, and push it solidly against his mouth.  I pat his cheeks a couple of times as I hear words that try but fail to break through, his eyes round circles.  Now I guess we'll see how long it takes him to pass out.

Free of his cursing voice, but now cursed by his eyes, I ungracefully unwrap the thneed at his throat, the necklace dropping to his chest, and instead attempt to wrap the thneed tightly around the top of his head, covering his unhappy eyes.  He shakes his head sideways, back, trying to avoid it, his eyes still wide and dripping tears.  After a moment, I grab a fistful of his groin.  He tries to pull away and bring his limbs in to defend himself, but the effort is futile.  I hear his pathetic muffled scream.

To aid him in gaining some sense, I hiss, using as simple words as I can:  "Stop. Fucking. Moving."

I loosen my grip and all fight instantly drains out of him.  His head hanging, leaking pained moans, it's easy to cover his eyes now.

"See, that's not so bad."  For a moment, I cup his cheek like a mother would, and then step back to let him cool off and consider my options as I look over his trembling, pained, weak body.  A smile quirks at the sight of his truffula tree underwear.  I have a pair just like them.

Stepping forward, I edge my fingers under the waistband, giving him time to realize what I'm doing, and edge them downwards.  His body bucks repeatedly, his mind apparently forgetting what had just happened a minute before and my command.  The bucking does little more than swing his limp appendage up towards my face.  I stop the decent when I reach his upper thighs since it brings my face so close to his groin.  Even his cock looks like mine.  The moment I stop, he stops, probably trying to figure out what I'm going to do next. 

I keep him waiting for just a second or two before I grip the limp penis in my hand.  At the contact, he violently shakes his head, but doesn't dare move his body.  I can hear his pleas and quickly feel wetness hitting my face and hand, the thneed's absorbency probably forsaken by the tightness of the wrapping.  I should have worn my hat for this.  But oh well.  I could deal with his tears.

I crouch down, as my fingers caress him gently.  With an interest anyone with eyes has, I watch as the cock grows and expands as it engorges from the physical stimulation alone.  I don't have any fanciful delusions that Onceler actually wants this.  

The man fights to breathe through his nose.  Quickly the tears stop as all his concentration appears to go to the hardness I slide my hand up and down.  I push the foreskin off of the head which draws shuttering breaths from him.  Then I lean forward and trace my tongue along the slit with just a quick flick.  His hips spasm, but then he yanks back, trying to flee the attention.

"Shhh, Oncie, you don't have to want this, but you can still enjoy it," I murmur as I continue stroking him. 

I give him a few seconds to gather his wits, because I want his body to betray him again, before I lean forward and take the tip into my mouth and suckle it.  For a moment, Onceler stops all movement.  He even stops breathing.  I don't relent.  Then he starts breathing again, slowly, shakily.  In for the long haul, I drop to my knees and start to take in more and more of his length with small bobs of my head, suckling him like he is the most delicious thing on the planet.  And if I compare all of my past experiences to that moment, he is.

Mumbles and muffled pleads quickly become reckless moans.  I smile and lightly scrape my teeth along his length.  He shudders but doesn't pull away.  At the tip, I once again suckle, drawing precum out of the tip, while my hand strokes him.  My free hand slides between his open legs.  When I press my finger against the crack, to my amazement, he spreads his legs until the underwear digs into his thighs and bends his knees slightly, letting himself hang by his arms, welcoming my attentions.  My own erection presses against my pants, demanding freedom, entrance into this willing body.

Abruptly, I pull away, and he groans at the loss, his hips thrusting forward.  I stand and watch his lustful movements which enthrall me.  His hips rotate but nothing but air touches him which is probably the cause of his continuing groans.  His head tilts back, revealing his long, bruised neck.  He mumbles something.  I want to know what he said, so I pull the tape off of his mouth.  It's already part of the way off around his mouth from his calls and spit, but I know it still hurts where it's attached.  He calls out weakly, but his voice drops away.

Free, his breaths come out heavily through his mouth. His hips are no longer moving, but I know from the way his cock twitches, it won't take much to get him moaning and thrusting again.

"Repeat what you said," I breathe out, trying to sound neutral, but knowing my lust clouds my words.

Onceler bites his bottom lip, his head dropping until his chin hits his chest.

When I realize his refusal to answer, I yank the thneed off of his head so that I can see his face properly.  Then I realize his hair still covers his face, so I grab his chin and force his head up.  His eyes closed, he refuses to look at me.  My grip harshens.

Slowly, I say, "Tell me what you said."

His eyes flutter open and he looks at me.  His eyes are dilated so that they're almost all black.  His breaths are uneven pants with the trembles of his body.  He's stunning.

"I..."  When he stops, my grip digs and he swallows, then he continues with, "I-I said...  I said, please don't stop."

Hearing the words has the opposite effect.  I stop completely, unable to believe them.  How can this man... How can he want this, especially with what seems to be more than just carnal need? 

Then again, maybe it isn't.  Maybe he just wants a fuck.  The idea calms down some of my trepidation.

"You want me to fuck you?"

His eyes cloud at the idea, his breaths increase. 

"Answer me."

"Yes.  Yes, I want you to fuck me," he whispers, his eyes refocusing on me.

I can't stop the sudden, "Why," which escapes from my mouth.

Onceler swallows again, looking up at me with eyes calmer than I've ever seen on his face that day.  "Because I love you."

My eyes widen.  I fling his chin to the side, trying to break his eye contact.  It works.  He looks to the ground, his head still turned and he suddenly looks near tears again.  During all of this, the gnawing of my gut makes me ill.

Why does he want me inside of him?  Because he loves me.

Why is he here?  Because he loves me.

Why has he stayed with me all these years?  Because he loves me.

And I believe him.  I believe he believes his own words.

I don't realize I've backed up until I hit a conveyer belt some distance away.

Because I love you.  Because I love you.  Because I love you.

"Don't-Don't ever say that to me again!"

Onceler breaks down into a full sob.  The sight of it wracking his mostly naked body threatens to draw out my own tears.  I turn on my heel and stalk away from him, so not ready in any way to deal with the word love.


End file.
